


i'll come closer to you (if you come over)

by thewinterose



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket (Anime 2019), Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: F/M, Kyo wears leather jackets, Mutual Pining, Pining, Spoilers, Swimming, Tohru is an angel, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Water, as God intended, based on that fountain scene in atonement, oblivious characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:37:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewinterose/pseuds/thewinterose
Summary: She can write a novel on it, on her depth of feeling, and it still wouldn’t come close. Still wouldn’t capture everything that made up Kyo. She could write about it for the rest of her life and never be done.Or:Tohru goes for a swim. Kyo's unlucky enough to catch her.





	i'll come closer to you (if you come over)

**Author's Note:**

> yes i went there. if y'all are uncomfortable with the idea of teenagers being occasionally hormonal then this isn't for you. it doesn't get too graphic (if at all) but the implications are there. like in the tags, this is based on the fountain scene in the movie atonement. do yourself a favor and watch it. or just look up the scene on youtube. it's great.
> 
> title taken from lyrics from the song "warm water" by banks.

It’s really windy today.

Tohru notices this as she steps outside, the skirt of her summer dress whipping around her thighs. She doesn’t mind it though.

With the sunlight drifting through the tops of the trees, blanketing everything in a soft morning glow she’s come to associate with spring, it’s downright pleasant. It gives her a small bounce in her step, a lightness in her heart that feels genuine and not conditioned.

She wants to sing, but she won’t risk waking Shigure or Yuki. It’s a good thing she doesn’t have to worry about Kyo though. She knows that he went to visit his Shishou this morning.

She starts to hum instead, soothed by the gentle noise and the vibrations of her throat. The wind tussles her hair, billowing it softly around her head, and she can smell the faint traces of the shampoo she used last night. Almond and vanilla. Sweet and thick. Her mom’s favorite.

She walks over to the clothing line and sets the basket full of laundry down by her feet. She grabs a clothing pin and sets it between her teeth, still humming. Still happy. Still light.

Tohru wants to say that its simply the effects of the day that are making her feel this way, all floaty and serene, but if someone were to ask her, she’s not sure if she would be able to.

Instead, she would talk about the color of the dress she wore. Black. And the tan feet that she could see under the white sheet, right beside her own. Barefoot like he always was. She would remember the large hands on her shoulder. Tan too. And warm. She would remember the tears that streamed down her face, and how thin and reedy her voice got at the end. She would remember the ugliness of herself, of her blatant vulnerability and neediness. Her need to be reassured. Her need to be validated. Her need to _know_. Her subtle manipulations.

But most of all, she would remember Kyo.

_“I won’t be disillusioned.”_

And how it meant everything and nothing.

Everything because it allowed all the things she knew about him, their bond, _herself,_ to finally sink in and be real in a way that she had never allowed it to be before.

And nothing because she already knew. She loved him. She loves him.

She can write a novel on it, on her depth of feeling, and it still wouldn’t come close. Still wouldn’t capture everything that made up Kyo. She could write about it for the rest of her life and never be done.

Tohru hangs up the first shirt- Shigure’s shirt- and leans her face against it for a moment, overwhelmed by the influx of memories and sensations that bombard her. She feels like she’s floating on a cloud, dancing among the stars, held up simply by the memory of how warm Kyo’s palms felt on her shoulder. How tall he seemed, silhouetted behind the white sheet.

He was so intimidating then. So large. So looming. It felt like if he said the wrong thing, if his voice had even a hint of judgement, of disgust, she would’ve sank into the ground right there. It scares her, honestly, how tied up her self-esteem seemed to be in his perception of her.

_Is this love?_

And yet.

And yet, she knew he wouldn’t. She knew, somehow, that he would accept her.

She doesn’t know if that’s just because of her steadfast confidence in him, or some part of her that hoped that he would. Hoped so strongly that it didn’t surprise her when it became reality.

Tohru sighs softly and bites down on her bottom lip. The nervous tick soothes her and she hangs up another shirt- Yuki’s this time- and she tries to abandon her train of thought.

If she keeps getting distracted then she’ll never finish before everyone gets up and then she’ll have to work twice as fast to make sure breakfast is ready in time.

Besides, she likes the simple monotony of housework. She always has.

She’s humming again when she reaches down to pick up another shirt, and she finds herself pausing when she touches the soft cotton fabric. It’s a black button-down. Kyo’s black button-down.

_“I won’t be disillusioned.”_

The shirt is hanging between her fingers. Loosely. Because she’s half-afraid that if she grips it too hard, it’ll lose all essence of Kyo. All memory of the things he said when he wore it. The things he did. His warm palms on her shoulder. How he touched her, when the simple aspect of touch, of tactile affection, is so limited to him, and how he hugged her anyway-

A strong gust of wind blows the shirt out of her hand, and Tohru watches with wide eyes as it drifts over the grass, around trees, dancing in the gale, before it lands unceremoniously in the koi pond.

Perhaps she should chase after it, grab it, take it out, anything, before it floats into the water. But she doesn’t.

She just watches as it sinks down slowly, and then all at once.

Once her actions- or rather the lack of them- dawn on her, Tohru groans and runs her fingers through her hair, unable to stop the frustration that creeps up on her.

“Stupid,” she whispers harshly to herself. “This is what happens when you get distracted.”

She sighs and walks closer to the edge of the pond, peering every which way she can to see if the water is shallow enough that she can simply reach inside and pull the shirt out. Of course, she’ll have to apologize to Kyo for getting it wet in the first place and rewash it, but first she has to get the shirt.

She doesn’t know if it’s just because the shirt is black and the bottom of the pond is dark, or something else, but she can’t see it. And as the seconds pass and she still can’t see the shirt, only one solution becomes apparent to her.

She’ll have to go inside and get it herself.

Tohru sighs again, louder, and yanks softly at the ends of her long hair.

Of course this happens. She doesn’t want to jump in. She’s leery of what can be in the pond that she hasn’t seen yet, and she already took a shower, _and_ she doesn’t want to get her new dress wet. She was going to wear it today to show Shigure her appreciation of him for getting it for her out of the blue. The soft pink color was very nice and she liked how it flowed around her thighs when she twirled. She originally wasn’t even going to accept the gift, but Shigure wouldn’t take no for an answer.

But, this was her fault in the first place, and her mother always stressed the importance of small sacrifices. She would have to suck it up.

Tohru claps her hands on her cheeks determinedly and begins to toe off her sandals. She places them neatly beside her feet, and allows herself a second to appreciate how dry she is at the moment.

She seats herself at the edge of the koi pond and raises her legs, sinking them slowly into the water one by one, hissing once the cold sensation of the water hits her.

She bites down on her lip hard, the outer coating of her cherry chapstick completely gone now due to her repeated abuse, and sets her hands down on the warm grass, bracing herself.

She shoves herself off the ground and submerges herself in the water, all but her head and neck, and then takes a deep breath. Once she’s satisfied with the amount of air in her lungs, she goes under.

At first she gives herself a couple seconds for her eyes to adjust. It’s freshwater, which relieves her.

She swims around for a few moments, surprised by how deep the pond actually is, before she spots the shirt. It’s lying on the bottom next to a small, moss-covered rock, and she swims towards it. She can feel her lungs start to burn a bit, her need for oxygen slowly starting to sink in, and she lunges for the shirt, her fingers reaching out to grasp the fabric.

Once she has it in her hand, she starts swimming upward, one arm held tight to her chest, while the other does all the work. When she resurfaces, she breathes in deeply, letting herself inhale greedy gulps of air, and starts to swim toward the edge where her shoes are.

It’s funny. When Kyo landed in the pond for the first time, it looked so small compared to him.

To her, it feels like she’s swimming in a lake.

When she reaches the edge, she places the sodden shirt down on the warm grass and then heaves herself up by her arms. In the movies, this is where she’d lift herself up expertly and stroll away into the house, a towel at the ready and a smile on her face.

But this is real life.

And when she heaves herself over the edge, her arms shake from the strain and she collapses next to the pond, her hair half-swimming in it.

She wants to groan again. She can feel how slickly the dress sticks to her, the mud from the bottom still stuck between her toes, and her frustration with herself raised to a dangerous degree, but at least she got the shirt. That’s still something. Even if it was her fault.

Tohru stares up at the sun for a few moments before laying her arm across her eyes, suddenly tired. She should get her hair out of the water, at least, and she will, but once she gets her breathing even again. She’s still panting from the exercise. Perhaps she should ask Kyo and Yuki to help her exercise more. She shouldn’t be this tired from just a few minutes of swimming.

But she’ll do that later.

She’s in the midst of allowing herself to relax next to the pond when she hears a sound. It’s a strange sound. Something that’s simultaneously a hiss and a gurgle. Something strangled. She would think it were an animal if the sound wasn’t so familiar.

Cautiously, she raises her arm and lets her eyes drift to the side, allowing them to wander until they stop abruptly on another pair of eyes. Wide eyes. Shocked eyes. Eyes that seem to swim with a million different conflicting emotions, and yet just emote one.

_Want._

Tohru gasps suddenly and lurches up.

“Kyo-kun!” she breathes, straightening up and running her fingers through her still-wet hair.

Kyo doesn’t say anything. He simply goes redder, and his eyes seem to fly everywhere.

They land on her and then zip away and then land on her again and then zip away and then land on her again, as if he can’t stop himself. And she honestly doesn’t know what he’s stopping himself from because her mind is going a mile a minute and she can’t seem to stop screaming internally.

“Kyo-kun!” she says again. “I’m so sorry! I dropped your shirt into the water and I had to get it and I know I got it all wet and I’m so sorry. I’m _sorry_ -“

He closes his eyes and abruptly turns around, looking like he didn’t process a single thing she said. She presses her hands to her hot cheeks and watches as he starts shucking his jacket off harshly, every movement a seeming punishment inflicted on himself.

He walks towards her and stops a couple feet away, his eyes turned upwards and his hand outstretched, the leather jacket held tightly between his fingers. His tan knuckles turn white.

Her mind is still dazed with confusion. “What-?”

“Put this on,” he grits out harshly between his teeth.

Her brows furrow, and through the confusion, a pang echoes against her heart. She’s hurt by his roughness with her, for some reason.

“Kyo-kun, why?” she asks, a bit plaintively, and she can see the strain in his jaw when he clenches it.

“Don’t let that fucking dog see you like this. He’ll make some dumbass comment and you’ll get embarrassed.” This is also said harshly. Angrily too. But not at her. She can sense it.

She reaches out, the tips of her fingers skimming the supple fabric of his proffered jacket, but she’s still puzzled. She’ll get his jacket wet. Wouldn’t it make sense to bring her a towel?

“Excuse me, but-“

He interrupts her again. “Goddammit, Tohru, will you please just take the jacket. I can _see_ you.”

Tohru steps back a bit, her mind turning over his words. She looks down at herself, at the sodden fabric of her dress, slick and almost translucent, and they hit her. He can see her. He can _see_ her.

_He can see her!_

“Oh! Oh, I’m so, so, so, so sorry! I swear I didn’t know! I promise Kyo-kun, I wasn’t trying to… to… um… expose myself-“ His jaw clenches so hard it looks like it can shatter –“or anything! I swear!”

“Yeah. Yeah, I believe you.” His voice sounds strained when he speaks. “I’ll take care of the laundry, just please run back inside and change or something.” He allows himself a second of eye contact before he forces them upward again. “Like _now_.”

Tohru shoves the jacket on, not even allowing herself to appreciate the soft leather fabric of it or how big it is on her. She rushes forward and shoves his shirt into his hands, and then starts scurrying back inside, apologies falling from her lips as she does.

Before she disappears up the stairs, she looks back, her eyes meeting his through the screen door. His eyes have always been fiery, but when they trace the wet contours of her face, she feels as if she’s been set aflame somehow. In some way she’s yet to fully understand.

Her eyes drift down to his hand. He’s holding his shirt. The one that holds so many memories for them. He seems to understand, she thinks, by the sense of gravity in the way he holds it.

But still.

His fist is clenched. Not in anger. But in the palpable way he seems to be holding himself back. From what she doesn’t know. From dropping it? From going into the house?

_From chasing after her?_

The idea exhilarates her somehow, deep down, in some primal, feminine way that she instinctively understands and yet confounds her at the same time.

She doesn’t find out.

She tears her gaze away and runs upstairs.

**Author's Note:**

> all my fics are self-indulgent trash. the only reason why kyo didn't call tohru "princess" in this fic is because i couldn't find a way for him to organically do so. and also, i know that kyo has no sense of fashion. so why was he wearing a leather jacket? primarily bc i wanted him to. just imagine it was a gift from haru or something. 
> 
> anyway, i hope you all enjoyed! this one was fun to write!


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